


Maybe, Perhaps, Possibly

by JustTheJadey



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I still don't know how tags work, Pining, Teacher Katniss, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:07:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22290781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustTheJadey/pseuds/JustTheJadey
Summary: A short one-shot about how Katniss doesn't want kids but things are getting really confusing.
Relationships: Annie Cresta/Finnick Odair, Katniss Everdeen & Gale Hawthorne, Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 43





	Maybe, Perhaps, Possibly

**Author's Note:**

> Been on my laptop for a while, I thought it deserved to see the light of day. Go easy on me.
> 
> A.k.a. my last story was too happy and I needed to write this to balance things out.

I don’t know when it started but I hope it ends soon. I never wanted kids; at least I thought I didn’t. But recently I’ve been plagued by intrusive dreams of me playing with two little boys. I don’t see their faces long enough to remember nor do their names come up in my dreams, nevertheless, I know they were mine.

So, I try to look back at moments that could have triggered these intrusive dreams.

Maybe it was Annie’s pregnancy.

We had been friends for so long that seeing her married and about to have a baby was an exciting time for our little makeshift family. They were starting their lives and we were very happy for them. But of course, a question hung in the air; who would go next? Get married, have kids and all that?

The funniest answer, of course, was me.

I’ve always been open with them when it came to my views on having kids, they knew I wasn’t going to be a good mother. I was never maternal or caring. The best I could do was take care of some fish in a bowl. They would tease me about it; joking about how they can’t wait to see me when I have a baby. Or how the ones who deny it most are usually the ones who are given it.

Annie and Finnick were visiting us at school one day. Classes were finished for the semester and we were just about done with our reports, so we had time to order lunch and catch up. It was the first time I witnessed baby fever in all its chaos.

I fought the urge to cringed as I watched them touch her belly without asking.

 _“I would never want that,”_ I think to myself as the parade of palms make their way to Annie’s belly.

After all of it, there was a moment of relative silence as everyone got back to chatting about baby names and gender reveals. I looked at the parents-to-be and smile, they looked like love was pouring out of every pore.

I was stunned by the feeling that bubbled in my stomach. Not really jealousy; envy, maybe.

 _“Maybe--”_ I silence the thought before it starts. I could not afford the luxury of that ‘maybe’.

Our guests leave far too soon for our liking, excusing themselves to go home.

“It’s great; what’s happening with them. I’m really happy our family is growing,” said Johanna just after the newlyweds and soon to be parents left.

“It is,” I remark with a smile. The next words that came out of my mouth were unexpected and—if I were totally honest—terrifying. “It almost makes me want that for my own.”

They stare at me and I catch the words as soon they leave me. A silence falls over us, they know what I said, I know what I said and now we we’re just looking at each other. Waiting for what felt like hours.

It was our friend Gale who breaks the silence.

“I think you might be catching baby fever there Katniss,” he laughs, and we all follow. With that, we drop the subject altogether and talk about something mundane like a new restaurant in town or something.

I try to forget those thoughts; I remind myself that I would be a horrible mother no kid deserves to have someone as irresponsible and unstable as me for a mother.

Perhaps it was the time I had to chaperone some kids to a regional competition.

The competition was happening out of town and I had to care for the kids for three days while we were staying at the venue.

The older students mostly took care of themselves, but the sixth graders need to be constantly monitored. I had to remind them to eat their meals, prepare their equipment, take a bath and get dressed.

I wasn’t sure I was doing a good job at taking care of them, after all, I really wasn’t enjoying playing substitute parent to those kids.

On the last day of the competition, I was helping the kids pack their things when I hear a familiar voice behind me; “Well I say; you’re a natural mother figure.”

I turn around to see my ninth-grade teacher Miss Trinket. I’d seen her around the venue a few times, but I didn’t think she remembered me.

I smile at her and shake my head. “I’m perpetually single, yet I feel like I already have four kids,” I chuckle.

“You’re a teacher, it comes with the job. You’re good at it,” she smiles at me.

“You haven’t even seen me teach,” I laugh.

“I’m sure you’re great at that too, but I meant at taking care of kids,” I know she means well but I’ve never wanted to walk out of a room more in my life, so I do. I excuse myself mumbling something about helping the other kids with their bags.

I’ve always liked Miss Trinket; she was one of the teachers who inspired me to become one myself. She was a great teacher and a mother figure to me when I was her student. She helped me out a lot when I was left to take care of myself and my little sister after my father passed away and my mother ‘checked out’. She always made sure I got home safe and I'm pretty sure she talked the lunch ladies into giving more food at lunchtime. I’ll always be thankful for her kind words and acts.

 _“If she thinks you’re a natural at this, perhaps—”_ I cut it off again. There is nothing natural about me becoming a mother. There is nothing motherly about me and who I am.

It could possibly be _Him._

We met three years ago, he was nice, and I was myself. He’s a painter, a baker, he doesn’t take sugar in his tea and he always double knots his shoelaces.

He has the brightest smile I’ve ever seen.

I love him. But we’re friends and I don’t want to ruin what we have. I know he’ll never feel that same about me.

We talk about a lot of things mostly art and music and the students. He laughs at my jokes and I fight back the urge to stare at his smile for too long.

He’s good with kids, I see him interact with some of the preschoolers and I feel a flutter in my stomach.

“Hey Katniss, look at this cute kid in a chef’s outfit,” he says one day as he shows me a clip on his laptop.

“Peeta, he’s adorable,” I muse. A little too giddy and girly for my liking, but I can’t help it with him.

“Yeah. I can’t wait to teach my kids how to bake,” he says this and my heart drops. I want to say that he would be a great dad, I stop myself because I don’t want to freak him out.

Instead I say, “That would be cute.”

Yet another reminder of how wrong were for each other. He wants kids; I can’t give that to him.

 _“If it was with him, you could possibly…”_ I will myself to stop. I look at him, his eyes focused on the child playing with a toy spatula.

 _“If it was with him, you could possibly make it work.”_ I couldn’t stop it that time. So, I just let my thoughts wander, to two little boys, laughing and baking cookies while he stands next to them smiling and helping them decorate, while I watch.

I shake my head willing the thoughts to leave me. I go back to work and try not to look at him for the rest of the day.

He wants kids. I don’t.

 _“It’s better off this way.”_ Think to myself as I finally let myself focus on something else.

Gale and I are left alone in the faculty that evening to catch up on checking papers, it’s relatively uneventful until he turns to me with that look on his face that means he wants to ask me a weirdly specific question. Coincidentally, it’s also the face that makes me want punch him in the head.

“I can feel the gears working in your head, Gale,” I say looking up from the stack of Biology reports I was marking. “What do you want?”

“Peeta,” he says in a casual tone.

“You want Peeta?” I try to manage a joking tone, but I dread the question forming in his head.

“No. But you do,” I just groan at his attempt at a joke.

“We talked about this,” I sigh. “And we agreed never to talk about this.”

He gives me a half-hearted laugh and goes back to whatever he was doing before. I’ve known Gale since college, and I know what he’s doing; he’s hanging the question in the air. Letting me stew in my own thoughts until I answer his unspoken question with any prompting. But it isn’t going to work this time. I’m not letting him win.

“He wants kids, Gale.” _Fuck! I hate this game._

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” I hate that casual tone.

“I can’t give him that,” I let out a deep breath. “And he deserves to have kids.”

“Catnip,” he sighs. I make a face at the nickname he only uses when he’s about to say something that might hurt me. “Why are you so against having kids?”

“Because I know I can’t do it. I’m not capable of the kind of love it takes to be a mom.” I tell him honestly. “There are so many ways I could mess up and ruin that kid’s life.

“All I’m saying is start with a date. Go from there,” he turns to face me. “Don’t worry about having kids right now.”

“He doesn’t feel the same way. And even if he did, every time the topic of kids comes up; he practically slaps me in the face with the fact that he wants them so badly,” I say, resigned. “It’s a deal-breaker. If we did get together now, it won’t end well.”

“You don’t know that. You could change your mind. Both of you,” his voice sounded so sincere, I almost believed him.

There was a moment of silence.

I know he’s right; nothing was set in stone. And the more I fall for Peeta, the more I find my resolve faltering. I could feel myself starting to want kids, but only if they were _his_ kids. _God, that sounds so creepy!_ I think to myself.

But it was true. He deserved to have kids because he was all good, and that goodness deserved to be multiplied. The world deserved more of Peeta Mellark, and I couldn’t do that.

Gale must’ve sensed me trying to work through my inner monologue, and broke the silence, “Hey, I didn’t mean to push it. You wanna get out of here? Get some drinks?”

I silently thank him for dropping the subject and gave him a tired smile. “No thanks. I’m going to head home. Thanks for the talk.”

He nodded and we exchanged pleasantries and went on our different ways.

A silent tear escapes me that night. At first, I am unaware of the reason behind it, but I come to realize it soon enough and weep a bit more.

 _“They would have been perfect,”_ says a voice in my head. _“They would have had his smile,”_ I let myself fall apart; my heart knowing that these tears were not for me.

These tears were for the two little boys I would never meet. The nameless, faceless children in my dreams. I was mourning their nonexistence. I was grieving for the laughter I would never get to hear, the warmth from the hugs I would never feel, even the cries I would never have a chance to soothe. I was crying for the children I would never bare and the family that I would never have a chance to love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm on twitter. @JustTheJadey08


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